The Real Star-Crossed Lovers
by mellythenerd
Summary: The 74th Annual Hunger Games from the eyes of Cato.
1. Chapter 1

Reaping day: the most anticipated event of my district. It's here. Today is the day that I volunteer for the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, as I have been trained all my life. I will get picked this year. I will, I will, I will.

In most districts of Panem, getting reaped for The Hunger Games is not a pleasurable fate. But in Districts 1 and 2, it's almost a privilege. We're trained for the games, and it's our duty to bring pride to our district. There are always several volunteers, and our district escort, Harla, picks randomly between all the volunteers. This will be my year. I will get picked.

I make my way to the reaping with my mother and father. I glance around at all the families filing into the area around the stage upon which I will stand before I enter the train to the Capitol. Everyone is dressed in his or her best clothing. My entire sight is being overwhelmed with shiny suits and gowns of silver and gold. We are one of the richest districts, so we need to look stunning.

My dad fixes the collar of my gold suit and my mom readjusts the black tie around my neck.

"You'll get it this year, son," my father whispers to me with an encouraging slap on the back. His voice is deep and certain. He's always wanted this for me. He knows I can get out of the arena alive.

"Good luck, sweetie," my mother smiles. She's a normal District 2 mom. No mom really wants her son or daughter to be so anxious to leave and enter a world of killing for sport, but they've all been in our shoes. They know the excitement we all have towards the games. Like every mom, mine is worried. She doesn't doubt my skills, but I'm facing twenty-three other tributes in order to live. It scares her.

I nod in appreciation of my parents' comforting. Before heading off to my age group's section, I hug them both. A few minutes pass until I see Harla walk onstage with a few government officials behind her. The girls ogle over her Capitol wear. She's wearing a black, lacy hat over her fake and short white hair peeking through the bottom, which makes her about a head taller than normal. The matching heels strangling her feet make her another six inches taller. Her revealing dress catches the guys' attention. The word 'dress' is used loosely. To me, it looks as if she took her gothic bed sheets and wrapped it around herself. It covers the important parts, and spirals passed her knees, limiting her movement. A large, authentic black feather springs off of the fabric around her one shoulder. Her makeup is dark, but she wears a giant smile under those black lips.

"Welcome!" she greets enthusiastically into the microphone, her Capitol accent apparent. "Who is ready for the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games?"

Cheers erupt all around me and by impulse, I join in. Our positive feedback makes Harla clap her hands together, her abnormally long, black and sparkly fingernails tapping together into the microphone.

"Wonderful! Then I suppose I shouldn't keep you waiting. We'll pick the lucky lady first," she decides as she walks over to a pair of bulky jars. One has a pink rim, and the other has blue. Her hand takes a plummet into the pink one. She shuffles her hand for a few moments, and then selects a slip of paper out of the thousands. Carefully, she unfolds the card. Then she walks back to the microphone, her heels clacking onto the golden stage in the dead silence. "Lynn Yolden," she announces.

Every head in the venue is now turned to the girls' group, looking for Lynn. Calmly, a short but fierce looking girl, probably the age of 17, makes her way to the stage. Her red hair basks in the wind and her blue eyes are focused on the stage that she is walking onto.

She stands next to Harla and now is about the time when hands start shooting up. "Do we have any volunteers for Lynn?" Harla asks.

More than half of the girls are raising their hands. Harla scans over them and deciphers whom to choose. Then she extends her hand toward the middle of the pack, points out her bony finger, and says, "You, young lady, with the black hair over there. Yes, you."

A girl isolates herself from the crowd with a smile and makes her way to the stage. Lynn walks down and back to her family. The volunteer tells her name to Harla, who then announces it so we all can hear. "Clove Harding! Our District 2 female tribute!"

She looks familiar. Was she in my training class? I believe she was- she must be quiet. I would have remembered her if she was significant. I can take her.

"Now for the boys," Harla continues. She does the same process this time, except now she is searching in the blue-rimmed jar. She draws a card and waddles back to the microphone in her slim dress. "Marlin Homer."

The same procedure goes down. The moment Harla asks for volunteers, my hand is already in the air. I bolt it up so fast that I almost nail the kid next to me in the face. Again, she overlooks the crowd and my heart stop as her eyes land on me.

"You, the buff, blonde fellow," she nods.

I stand up straight and march triumphantly to her. Harla brings me to her available side while Clove is on the other side.

"What's your name?" she inquires.

"Cato Welsh," I say, projecting my deep voice to make a good impression.

"Clove and Cato, our District 2 tributes!" she repeats. Then she puts her arms around both me and Clove.

Zest roars break out as Harla leads us to the backstage, her arms still cradling us. I can feel the strips of her bare skin on me and quite frankly it makes me uncomfortable.

"Well, congratulations kids! You'll have three minutes to speak to your visitors privately and then we'll be on our way to the Capitol!" Harla informs us cheerfully.

We're directed to a narrow hallway with two doors across from each other. Clove goes into one while I enter the other. There is a gray, plushy couch in the center of the room. I take a seat on it and wait patiently.

When the door opens, my parents stand behind it and rush in.

"Cato! Baby, you're ready for this. I know you are," my mom rushes to me. Her arms wrap around me lovingly.

"Thanks, mom," I smile.

My dad sits on the other side of me and puts a firm hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "You got this, Cato. You're strong and you have good aim. Be aggressive."

"Got it," I say. "I love you guys."

"We love you too, honey," my mom grins.

For the next minute, we hug silently. Then a man opens the door and tells them that it's time to go. They get up and say goodbye to me. I smile and wave back. The next time I see them, I will be in Victor's Village, showing them our new home.

I rest on the couch and wait for Harla to come get me. When she finally does, she has Clove with her.

"Time to go to the Capitol!" she says brightly.


	2. Chapter 2

The train ride has been fairly quiet so far. For the past twenty minutes or so, Clove and I haven't said anything to each other. Why should we? Soon we'll be trying to kill each other. I need to be cold and aggressive. I can't treat her as anything more than another Career.

A door slides open and Harla enters and takes a seat across from me and Clove. "Well, I just spoke with your mentor. He'll be here in a few minutes."

Brutus O'Rourke is the District 2 tribute mentor. He won the games three years ago at eighteen years-old. Rumor has it that he has only spoken to his family and no one else since he won. I have full confidence in this guy. He was merciless and determined, which is exactly what I have to be, and he'll help me get that way.

After what seems like forever, a young but muscular man walks in the room. He wears a denim jacket over a black v-neck and khaki pants. His black hair is slicked back with a bit of a curve in the front. The real thing that captures my attention is the eye patch covering his left eye.

"Kids, this is Brutus," Harla tells us as she stands up. "I'll go get us some refreshments while you introduce yourselves."

As Harla exits, Brutus silently sits down in her seat and looks at us for a few moments.

Trying to make a good impression, I extend my hand to him. "Hi, I'm Cato. I absolutely admire you."

He looks at my hand in contemplation and then shakes it slowly. "Brutus," he says in a flat tone. Then he switches his attention to Clove. "And you are?"

"Clove," she answers calmly. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smirks. "Before we begin with anything specific, we have to have a decent amount of information about one another. So let's get to know each other."

The manner he was using was probably meant to be taken as friendly, but the monotonous of his voice makes me nervous to say anything. Apparently, Clove doesn't feel the same.

"Not to sound nosy or rude, but I never knew you had an eye patch," she states.

His visible green eye shoots directly to hers and stares. I almost expect him to get up and pounce on her in an instant, but he stays still and replies, "An inquisitive one, we have this year, I see. You know, curiosity could get you killed in the arena." He becomes less tense and leans back in the chair casually. "At some point, you could wonder, _what was that sound I just heard? _You go over to look in what you think is a stealthy manner, and a spear is thrown right at your heart."

"I'm not that ignorant," Clove defends.

"Well," laughs Brutus, "What _would_ you do then?"

"Simple. I take a rock and throw it toward the area from which I heard the noise. If there's no reaction, it was probably a bird. If I hear the shuffle of feet, I know to get away from there," she says matter-of-factly.

"Smart girl," Brutus nods. "Anything else you want to discuss?"

"Why do you have an eye patch?" I dare ask. "After you win the games, the victor is taken to a hospital and has all the help he can get. Most get prosthetic body parts if necessary."

"I didn't want a fake eye, if that's what you're suggesting," says Brutus. "The eye patch is a sign of sacrifice and a reminder of what I went through to live."

"Well it definitely completes your appearance," Clove replies.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he inquires.

"Well, you're strong and triumphant and your eye patch just kind of shows off the badass that you are," she elaborates.

Brutus leans in closer to her. "Being a winner doesn't make you a badass."

"Yeah but your snarky attitude does," Clove retorts serenely.

He straightens his back and pulls his jacket together. Then he smiles at Clove. "I like you," he nods.

"She just called you out and you're _praising _her?" I scoff.

"She's fearless. She wasn't scared to fire back at me. Who cares if she insulted me? Being respectful won't get you anywhere in these games."

Clove shrugs with a cocky smile.

"She has character," he explains further. "You, I'm not so sure about."

Clove blushes. "Well thanks."

Before I can say anything else, Harla walks in the room with two bottles of water and a wine glass with a blue liquid in it. She hands the bottles to me and Clove and gives Brutus the wine glass.

"Can't we get some of that?" I ask.

"You need to stay in shape. No treats unless you earn them," Brutus tells us before taking a sip of the drink.

I reluctantly uncap my water bottle and sip it.

"Actually, I think Clove over here deserves a treat. Are you hungry?" He looks at Clove generously.

"Kind of," she answers.

"I'll go get you something sweet," he grins as he stands up and walks out of the car.

"Don't take anything he says too personally," Harla advises, specifically toward me. "He can be a little harsh."

"I like him," Clove muses.

"Well duh, he treats you like a princess," I roll my eyes. "He hates me."

"No, hun," Harla chimes in. "He doesn't hate you. It's just that Clove gave him more of a personality to go off of, probably. And he's just generally not friendly."

"I already have my persona picked for the sponsors to go off of. You haven't showed him yours yet," says Clove.

"But I don't know-" I start, but then Brutus comes back into the room with a plateful of desserts. He walks over to Clove and hands it to her.

"Thank you," she sighs gratefully before she starts digging in.

"Sure thing, sweetie."

I didn't notice how hungry I was until I saw Clove stuffing her face with delicious looking goodies.

"When's lunch?" I ask Brutus as he sits down again.

"I suppose we could fit that in now if you're hungry," Harla says.

"I thought we were going to eat lunch later. If I had known I wouldn't have needed you to get me these desserts," Clove insists to Brutus.

"Well if you're full after the desserts we can just consider that you're lunch. If not, you can have lunch too," he says.

"Wow, thanks. Maybe you're not as bad as I thought you were," she laughs.

"Yeah, well, we'll see," he replies.

We sit down at a table and serve ourselves plates of meat, vegetables and grain, except for Clove, who sits between me and Brutus with her plate of sweets. We start discussing survival tactics and ways to stay hidden. Then the topic of sponsors is brought up.

"So how old are you two?" Brutus asks.

"I'm sixteen," I tell him.

"Fifteen," Clove answers.

"Alright, so you're a bit higher in the age spectrum. Usually, it's very easy for the young tributes; say ages twelve through fourteen, to get sponsors. People feel bad for them and they try to help them survive as long as possible. You are both a bit older and from a rich and well-prepared District. No one will help you out of pity. You have to earn your sponsors, which can be a hard thing to do," Brutus stresses.

"So how do we get people to like us?" I query.

"Well, the first step is the interview. You need a strong sense of who you are, or rather, who you want to come off as to your sponsors. No one wants to support a dull and bland tribute." I can tell that was directed toward me. Clove has her personality sorted out already. "Another big help with this is the score you receive from the Gamemakers. If it's high, people will bet on you. And if they bet on you, they will want to send you parachutes to insure their accuracy."

"When do we start training?" Clove speaks up.

"A few days. First we have the parade, then the interviews, then training, then you'll show the Gamemakers what you've got," Harla updates us.

The train makes a few quavering movements and then begins to slow down noticeably. Clove gets up from the table and walks to the window. I follow her and take a look outside. We pass a sparkling body of water which reflects the tallest of dazzling buildings. High tech buses and cars busy the streets. We pull up along a crowd of inhuman-looking creatures of all different colors and designs. They are going wild for our appearance. The people of the Capitol are not known for their subtlety. They look alien to me, still, after years of seeing them on television; seeing them in person is a different story. I observe each detail of their artificial beings and question why they can't even accept their original skin tone.

I soak in the crowd's cheers and wave with Clove to the people. Interaction is a way to get sponsors, so I better start using it now.

"Listen," Brutus interrupts our musing of the Capitol. "When we depart and get to the labs, you'll go through the beauty process prior to your meeting with Zane. Then we'll get settled in our rooms and you can rest until the parade. Got it?"

Zane, our fashion stylist. I can't say I'm awaiting his presence desperately. He's probably a whack-job like the rest of the Capitol. He'll put Clove and me in strange outfits for the Tributes Parade and do whatever he can to make us look absurd.

"Got it," Clove finally answers for both of us.

The train comes to a complete stop with a jerk. Brutus and Harla lead us out from behind and take us into a cold and mostly glass-based building. They rush us to a room with the number two carved into the door. In the room, there are two beds separated by two curtains. By each bed stand two Capitol freaks who wave us over.

A purple-toned male with over-extended yellow eyelashes that curl over his small eyebrows takes my wrist and lays me down in the bed. While I situate myself, he pulls the curtain as a green woman with pink hair pulls the other curtain around the bed that Clove now rests upon.

"I'm Julo. What is about to happen may make you feel uncomfortable but is essential preceding your conference with Zane," the man says. "Let me do what I have to do and this process will be quick and painless."

I nod with a bit of hesitancy. Julo then asks me to remove my suit jacket. I do so obediently before he begins completely undressing me. I am now lying on a cold, metal bed in front of some stranger with no clothes on whatsoever. At least a man is probing me and not a woman, which would make it a bit more unsettling.

He begins washing me with lavender-scented soap with an odd texture. Then he hoses me down with a warm mist and scrubs me with a soft sponge. His touch on me feels gauche, especially when he gets down to my lower half. I try to ignore the incongruity of this procedure by staring up at the white light that hangs over my bed. After Julo is done scrubbing me, he sprays me with warm water at a stronger force this time, and then begins to dry me off with a towel.

He blankets my private area with the towel which makes this slightly more bearable. His face then hovers over mine as he examines my features, I suspect to look for any necessary changes. He retrieves a pair of scissors from his desk and begins trimming my hair. After he's done jelling it with goo from every container he could find, he washes his hands at a nearby sink and tells me that I can sit up until Zane arrives. Then, without another word, he disappears behind the curtain.

In what feels like forever, a man comes through the curtain. He is tall and slim, wearing reasonably regular clothing with solid black polo and skinny jeans. He has a pale face against his scarlet-painted lips. His blonde, nearly yellow, stringy hair is parted directly down the center with his awkward bang hanging right along his temples.

"I'm Zane," he introduces as he offers a handshake.

I accept it cautiously without a sound.

"You have to trust me, as your stylist. I want nothing but the best for you. If you're afraid of me, I can't help you, Cato," he remarks. He eyes me up and down a few times before he continues, "Maybe you'd feel more comfortable if you were wearing underwear whilst speaking to me."

I nod as I pick up my plaid boxers from the end of the bed. He respectfully looks away as I remove the towel from my midsection and slide on my underwear. He looks back at me and smiles, "Better?"

"Yeah," I confirm.

"I'd like to tell you that you can redress completely but protocol says that I am to fit you for your costumes right away. Then you can go take a nap or something until I have to dress you for the Tributes Parade. Okay?"

"Alright," I agree.


	3. Chapter 3

The fitting takes almost no time. I feel a bit more comfortable around Zane than I did with Julo. He's more understanding and human-like. After we finish, he pats me on the back and sends me fully-clothed to find Brutus. I'm led directly up to my room which is smaller than I had expected, but manageable. I lie down on the bed and almost instantly fall asleep.

I wake up to a soft object being thrown at my face.

"Get up!" I hear Brutus demand as my eyes slowly open. I remove the pillow that he threw at me from my face and push it to the side.

"You know, there's a nice way to wake people up," I groan.

"The parade is in an hour! You have to get your costume and get to the chariots. So you need to stop complaining about my waking-methods and get the hell out of bed," he orders.

I reluctantly lift myself into a sitting position and let my bare feet rest on the cold, wooden floor of my room. "I bet you didn't wake Clove like this."

His face tenses. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I decide to push his buttons a little bit. "Well, it's quite obvious you have a _thing _for her, which is kind of gross if you think about it. I mean, come on, she's six years younger than you!"

"What?" He exclaims. I can see his frustration rising up his face in a red shade. "I do not have- You know what, this is irrelevant and illogical. Get up right now and I'll reconsider smashing your face into three thousand pieces."

I obey, holding back a chuckle. Brutus then leads me with his firm hand on my shoulder to find Zane. We walk to the next room over to get Clove to take her with us. After several left and rights down series of hallways, we finally find Zane in a dressing room for District 2. There's one mirror on each wall, making the room feel infinite.

"Ah, there they are, my wonderful district two tributes!" Zane greets excitedly. "Did you two rest well?" When Clove and I both nod, he continues forward. "Splendid! So let's get you in your costumes!"

Brutus backs off against the wall and casually lifts his black-booted foot and rests the bottom of it on the wall casually as Zane retrieves two hangers with bags hanging over the content inside. He hands a smaller one to Clove and a bigger, broader one to me.

"Well, try them on!" Zane coaxes us.

Clove looks at me with the same expression that I'm giving her. Then she speaks for both of us, "Here?"

"Well, yes. There aren't any more dressing rooms," Zane says.

I point my finger to the door and shrug lightly. "I can go change in my room."

"Cato, we don't have time for this," Brutus objects.

Zane gently turns me so I'm facing a wall and then does the same to Clove so she's facing the opposite direction. "There, now you don't have to look at each other."

His idea would have been effective and made the room a bit more comfortable, except for the fact that we were each facing a mirror which allowed us to view the other's back. I'm positive that Clove has noticed this too, but we both know it's not a brilliant idea to argue with Brutus, who is standing on the wall perpendicular to me.

I begin stripping off my clothes and ignoring the fact that my mentor who hates me is basically standing right next to me. But I notice as I throw an uncomfortable look at him, that he isn't paying attention to me. His eyes are on Clove, who is getting help from Zane with her costume. My mouth lets out a quiet scoff of disapproval. Brutus is interested in a girl way too young for him, who is evidently being led to her death.

When all of my clothing except for my underwear is lying on the floor, Zane comes over and unzips the bag containing my costume for me. I'm less discomfited about him seeing me bare, so I don't mind his assistance. I can imagine Clove's discomfort though, with a man helping her while she's in nothing but undergarments and her mentor checking her out.

As Zane instructs me to step into a moderately stiff and well-structured dress, I notice the shine of gold bouncing off the costume. I slip my arms through the holes of the sleeveless top and admire the powerful glow of it. Yes, I feel embarrassed about wearing a dress, but there's something about the costume that makes it feel alright. Whilst admiring myself in the mirror, I accidentally catch a glimpse of Clove wiggling into her costume. My eyes shoot away immediately. There's no way I will look at any other tribute in that type of manner. She can't mean anything to me.

Zane hurries over to Clove and helps her zip up the dress in the back as he did for me. He announces when we're both situated, signaling that it's acceptable to turn around and look at each other. We turn around simultaneously and look at each other for a few moments.

"You look… nice," Clove smiles.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I smirk, purely to return the compliment. But she does look quite alright.

"Ooh, I forgot one thing!" Zane jumps. He goes to a box on his desk and takes out two matching headpieces with what appear to be wings on each side. He places one on my head and the other on Clove. We readjust them and try not to laugh at each other. "Basically," Zane begins, "the idea of the costumes is that you have the power of the Greek gods. You are from District Two and you are dominant."

The back-story does make the costumes a bit more rational, but the headpieces are still humorous to observe.

Clove giggles, "It's genius, Zane. Thank you."

"You both look wonderful. You'll stun the audiences," he assures us. "What do you think, Brutus?"

"I think we better get to our chariot before it leaves without us," says Brutus.

We all exit the room and take an elevator down to the main floor. After a few minutes of walking, Harla greets us at the entrance to an atrium. She waves us over to the pair of black horses she stands beside.

"Come, come. Are you set? Do we need any changes?" she stresses when we reach her.

"No, they're all good," Zane confirms.

"Is the chariot hooked onto the horses?" Brutus asks Harla.

"Yes, it's been double-checked and it's ready to go. So you two need to hop on," she tells us.

Brutus helps Clove to get onto the high chariot as Zane aids me. We get comfortable standing up so high and then sit down as the horses pull us into our spot in line. Our chariot is right behind District 1. They're dressed as what comes off to me as hideous birds. The line begins moving toward a hallway at the back of the room that will only be wide enough for the chariots. While we're moving forward, our team gives us quick encouragement and waves goodbye to us as we enter the dark antechamber.

The chariots continue at a steady pace and stop when District 1 waits at the archway of the stadium. When we hear President Snow announce for the chariots to come onward, the first chariot will push its horses frontward and start the parade.

"And now we welcome this year's Hunger Games tributes!" We hear the president bellow through a microphone after a long speech.

The first horses jerk into a gallop and carry the first chariot out into the runway. Ours goes next, and the rest follow. The crowd goes wild for our costumes as we make our entrances. Clove and I wave a bit to the Capitol audience. We're approaching the front of the towering stage upon which President Snow stands proudly when everyone in the stands becomes baffled and goes nuts. Whom are they cheering for? All the good districts have passed already. Clove gives me a puzzled look and I return the same glance before we both look back and see the last chariot.

Fire flickers off the tributes' costumes as they hold hands and smile at the crowd. Clove is so taken back by their appearance that she gasps and falls of balance. Her wobbling frightens me and instinctively, I grab her waste and pull her back upright to keep her from falling off of the chariot. She rips her attention from District 12's chariot and looks up at me. A blush rises up her face and stops at her cheeks with a flustered pink.

"Thanks," she mutters and pulls my hands off her waste. I didn't realize how uncomfortable my helping her made her feel.

"Sorry, I just thought you were going to-" I begin explaining before she cuts me off.

"No, no. It's fine. Seriously, thank you. I just… You took me by surprise," she claims.

I nod and we both face forward again. All the chariots pull into the semicircle in front of the stage and file into two separate rows. The crowd still hasn't calmed down about the fire costumes.

"Do you think they're going to steal our thunder for the rest of the games?" Clove asks me nervously.

"No," I laugh uncertainly. "I mean, they're an outlying district. Sure, they put on a show today, but that's all they're going to get. Chances are, they won't even make it past the Cornucopia."

She bites her lip and tilts her head up to look at President Snow. He throws downward hand motions to the audience, signaling everyone to quiet down. As if on cue, the fiery tributes' fires burn out and leave them in regular black and tight jumpsuits.

The president gives a long speech, but I'm not really listening. All of my thoughts are clouded with the idea that Clove brought up. What if District 12 does make a mark on the audience? The costumes have definitely hooked them? What if they keep this going? Districts 1 and 2 are supposed to be the best districts of Panem, the ones that everyone cares about and bets on. They count on _us_ for the good show. Now District 12, the poorest district, is giving them the entertainment instead. This could ruin everything. This cannot continue. I have to make my district proud. I must.


	4. Chapter 4

"Cato, wake up. Cato?"

I wake to a gentle voice and a gentle nudging of the shoulder. In response, I grunt and reluctantly rub my eyes and open them. When they adjust clearly, I see Clove hovering over my bed.

"Good morning," she greets.

"Um, hi?" I reply with uncertainty as I sit upright.

"Sorry, this is weird. It's just, Brutus asked me to wake you up because he said it wasn't pleasant for him to do so yesterday," Clove explains.

"Oh, well, you're more pleasurable to wake up to than Brutus practically dragging me out of bed," I chuckle.

I notice her cheeks flushing and her hand finds its way to her wavy black hair. "Thanks, I guess."

My feet relocate to the wooden floors with my legs hanging over the edge of the bed. "So, what are the plans for today?"

"Well Zane has our outfits for interviews ready, so we have to try those on and Brutus said something about a personality check or something to that extent."

"Sounds fun," I sigh sarcastically.

"It'll be fine. Come on, get up," she wheedles me.

I force myself to rise and follow her to District 2's dressing room to meet with Zane, Harla, and Brutus. Loft chairs for each of us were set in the middle of the room in a circle, three of them being occupied by our team when we walked in.

"Sit," Brutus orders, as if we're dogs in training. But we obey, and take the seats next to each other that are left.

"Is someone not a morning person?" I make a fake pouty face at Brutus and then smirk.

Before he can blow up in my face, Harla intervenes. "Stop, stop. We need to give this lesson."

Brutus sighs and leans back in his chair.

"Okay, so this is what's going to go down today. You both will be in a three minute interview with Caesar Flickerman. We can't predict what he's going to ask, but you need to be ready. Henceforth, you need to know the correct way to respond," says Zane. "You need to have an attitude premeditated. People need to have an idea of who you are."

"What if they wouldn't like who we are?" Clove asks.

"Pick a personality that they _will _like," says Harla.

"But that's not really us if we practice a character," I intrude.

Brutus's exposed eye shoots right to mine with a hard stare. "These games aren't about being yourself. Your first and only concern should be getting out alive. Do you understand?"

He shifts his glare to Clove as well. We both nod at his stern expression. I have to accept that I can't be myself if I want to win. I have to change, not just to stay alive, but to bring pride to my district. This is what needs to happen, so it shall.

"So!" Harla breathes out with enthusiasm. "Let's get started!"

"What can you two do?" Zane interrogates us.

"I'm good with knives," Clove shrugs.

"What about you?" Brutus turns to me.

"He's obviously strong. That'll get him somewhere," Zane answers.

"I can throw anything sharp, really. Spears, swords, that kind of stuff," I add on, trying to be humble.

"Okay," Zane nods, taking in the information. "Now what kind of personality do you think fits your skills?"

I look to Clove for assistance, but she looks just as undecided as I am. After a few moments she raises an eyebrow at Brutus and responds, "Harsh…?"

"Yes! Good. That's a good start," Harla applauds.

"You can't just be harsh," Brutus elaborates. "You need to be brutal, arrogant, aggressive. Something strong and over exaggerated."

"Won't people think we're horrible kids though? I mean, no one likes a set of self-centered jerks," I inquire.

"There are Capitol citizens that would proudly sponsor a, not self-centered, but self-_confident_ tribute," Zane justifies. "If you're secure about yourself, other people will be too. They'll think you have what it takes because that's what you make it seem like. This is all about perception."

If ferocity is what the sponsors feed off of, that's what I'll give them. Whatever it takes to win the games. I won't hesitate to be vicious. It's better than my lack of character that is overtaking me currently.

For the next few hours, Zane and Brutus assisted us in perfecting the art of being ruthless and sadistic tributes. The process mostly consisted of them asking me and Clove potential questions and us answering with our best response that fits our newfound characters. After that, Effie explained to us the proper conduct we should render during the interview with Caesar. It was a tedious procedure, but we finally have gotten through it.

"Alright," Zane claps his hands together after our long practice-interview session. "Time to get dressed and head to the studio."

He pulls himself up and walks to the closet from which he draws two hangers with concealed outfits on them. Clove and I unzip the bags covering the clothes simultaneously to reveal what we'll be wearing tonight. Within mine, I find a leather black suit jacket over a silky dress shirt. The pants share the same silkiness as the shirt. After I evaluate my outfit, I let my eyes wander over to Clove's. She brushes a vibrant orange dress across her lap.

"This is beautiful, Zane. Thank you," she sighs.

"Well, go on, get dressed!" he urges us.

"You know, the whole getting-dressed-with-people-watching-thing still isn't very comfortable, especially with more people in here," I cross my arms.

"That's okay," Harla stands. "Brutus and I were just leaving. We have to go make sure everything is in place with Caesar."

Accordingly, Brutus gets up as well and follows Harla out of the door. Then he stops and looks at Zane. "Have these two at the stadium in ten minutes."

"Will do," Zane nods respectfully.

Brutus then focuses his glance at me and Clove. "You're ready. You'll do fine," he assures us, though I'm almost positive that it was less directed toward me and more so at Clove. And with that, he exits the room and closes the door behind him.

"Well, hurry up, you two. I still have to style your hair," Zane rushes.

I stand up and turn to face away from Clove. When I'm sure she has done the same, I strip down to my underwear and begin pulling on the silky pants. After I'm clothed, I check with Zane for word that Clove is done too before I turn around. Without so much as a warning, my eyes begin roaming her body involuntarily. The strapless orange dress hugs her lean but muscular body tightly until it gets to her waist. From there, the dress expands into a poofy dome and stops at her knees.

Once my eyes make their way back up to her face, I notice a blush has erupted over her cheeks. She noticed I was staring.

"I, uhm," I stutter. "You look nice."

A smile spreads across her face. "You too."

"Okay yes, yes, you both look gorgeous. Now sit down and let me fix up your hair real quick," Zane sighs.

We do as we're told and rest for a few minutes as Zane puts fruity-scented gunk in my hair to spike it up. Then he moves to Clove and delicately styles her hair so that it's tied at the top and droops down. After he has perfected our hair, Zane hands us dress shoes to match and ushers us out of the room.

Nervous. That's how I feel right now. Nervous. I refuse to let it show on my face though. I maintain a strict and firm expression as I wait in line behind the District 1 tributes. Caesar is about to open the show with an introduction to this year's Hunger Games. Then I will be the third person to go out there, and Clove will go after me. At least she'll have a basis. I have nothing to go off of. This interview won't be how it was with Zane and Brutus and Harla. This is in front of a large audience, and although I don't have stage fright, I do fear messing up. I can't be myself, not here. If I show any type of weakness or let any bit of compassion peek through my act, I'm done. No one will sponsor me. I'll just look like a fool, trying to make it as some killing machine when I'm just some confused teenager who was given a title. I need to stay cold and focused.

Clove is standing beside me, tapping her foot quietly in anxiety. I want to comfort her, to tell her that she'll do well. I honestly think she will. She's had her character figured out since day one. She's ready, and I'm not. She needs some type of support, but I don't move. Soothing her worries would be caring, and that's not who I am anymore.

Just as I am reminding myself of this, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. My head flicks to Clove, who is staring at me with a pair of concerned, brown eyes.

"What?" I keep my voice steady and stern.

"Are you okay?" she asks me softly. Then she leans in so close that I can feel her warm breath on my ear. She looks around to make sure no one is paying attention. "Your hands are shaking."

I look down and notice that my hands are, indeed, trembling. I'm nervous and I'm showing it. This is not good. I clench my hands and regain control over my muscles. Cautiously, I let my guard down and whisper to her, "Did anyone notice besides you?"

"I don't think so." She shakes her head. "You're going to be alright. I know you will."

"I'm already fucking it up, Clove. No one's going to buy it," I cross my arms and keep my voice low.

"Hey, don't say that. I'm buying it," she tells me. "I know you have it in you."

"Thanks," I mutter.

Before our conversation can carry on further, Caesar's voice erupts from the speakers of the studio. He starts with an introduction. Sooner than I had hoped, he calls out the first tribute. A tall, brunette boy walks up the stairs and onto the stage. I stay quiet, but I'm not listening to the interview at all. I'm mentally preparing for any potential questions Caesar might ask. In what feels like such little time, I hear my name bellow through the speakers. I'm up.

I walk up the few steps that lead to the stage and enter from the side. The crowd is overwhelming with its cheers. They sound like wild animals, but somehow, it fuels me. The roars give me that boost of confidence I need. As I approach the chair, Caesar stands and sticks out his hand. I grasped it tightly and shook it. Then we both took our seats and faced each other.

"Cato! Good to see you!" he greets me. I nod, unsure of how to answer to that in a stern manner. "Are you nervous for the games?"

I shake my head. "No, not at all. I've been preparing for this all my life. I'm ready, undoubtedly."

"So what really motivated you to volunteer?" he asks as he rests his elbow on his thigh and holds his head up.

"Well," I start. Then I realize how much thinking that question really requires. I haven't thought about that, ever really. I guess it was always a latent incentive that I have. Several moments pass before I finally have it sorted out in my head. "I've seen every year of the games, just as every other citizen has, and I've noticed something consistent every year about the Careers. They're always doing it for the fame, the money, the attention. But even after seeing each Hunger Games, that's never why I aspired to win. I've always wanted to volunteer and win because it would bring pride to my district. I'll do everything it takes to get out of the arena alive, but not for the same selfish reasons we see all the time. I'll do it for my district."

Applause sounds from the crowd and I struggle to uphold an unyielding face. I've pleased them. They like me. I'm okay. I've made it past the worst.

After another minute or so of simple topics, mostly consisting of Caesar speaking instead of me, I'm off the stage and standing with Brutus, Harla, and Zane. They all offer me nods of approval.

"Good job," Brutus pats me on the back. "Maybe I underestimated you."

Shock races through me. Brutus is complimenting me? The surprise shows on my face, I suppose, because Brutus suddenly hardens his expression and says, "I still think you could have been more vicious though."

"Thanks," I roll my eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

"-And don't embarrass yourselves in there. You need the other tributes to fear you," Brutus finishes his lecture to me and Clove. Then he opens the tall doors to the training gym and tells us to enter.

All the tributes heads turn to us and stare us down. Trying to be bold, I look each and every one of them in the eye and return a glare. They don't scare me. As soon as we stand among the other tributes in a group, a woman begins informing us about how the training center works. After what seems like hours, we're finally instructed to disperse and find something to practice.

"We should go to the informative stations," Clove suggests as we walk away from the crowd.

"Why would we do that? No one's going to be scared of a few know-it-alls. We need to go practice fighting and show our skills," I argue.

"Cato, if we don't know anything about the arena, there's no way we'll survive. Didn't you hear the instructor? Most of us will die from natural causes, not other tributes."

"You were actually listening to that?" I scoff.

She crosses her arms below her chest and frowns at me. "You're going to die from poisonous consumptions, no matter how strong you are."

"Well you're going to die from being too petite!" I lose my temper.

"'Petite'? I have muscle!" she shouts back.

"Right, right. I must just be imagining the size difference between you and me," I roll my eyes sarcastically.

"Just because you're tall doesn't mean I'm-" she cuts herself off. "You know what? This is ridiculous. I'm going to go study while you waste your time."

And with that, she storms off toward the knowledge stations. I turn the opposite way and go to the fitness posts, and end up waiting in a line with about half the tributes at a climbing exercise.

After a couple of minutes, a boy and a girl, both about my age, come up to me.

"Cato, right?" the girl with blonde, flowing hair asks for confirmation. Her green eyes gaze right into mine in a friendly manner.

"Yeah," I answer calmly. "And you are?"

"I'm Glimmer," she introduces with a slight smile and then points to the boy, "and this is Marvel."

"We're the other Careers," Marvel explains. He's shorter than I am, with clean cut hair that swipes across his forehead.

"Can we talk to you for a minute?" Glimmer asks quietly. I nod and allow her to usher me out of line to a more private place. Marvel follows behind us.

"Glimmer and I have decided to team up," Marvel tells me. "And we think it would be better to have all the Careers together. That way, we can attack as a group and no one would dare come at us."

"I mean, our districts are clearly the best, but as individuals we are more vulnerable. As a team, however, we're the strongest against everyone," Glimmer adds on. "So what do you say? Wanna work together?"

I contemplate it for several moments, but I know what my answer will ultimately be. Of course I'm going to join them. That's the ultimate way to get people to fear me, to be with the rest of the talented tributes. "Sure," I finally concur.

"Great! Where's the other District 2 tribute?" Glimmer asks.

"She's over there," I point toward the other side of the center.

"Well, let's go talk to her," Marvel insists.

We make our way over to the knot-tying station, where Clove crouches and works.

"Clove," I say to get her attention. She looks up and glares. Then she sees who's with me and she cautiously rises.

"Hi," she says dubiously. "Who are your… friends?"

I can't help but notice she's looking specifically at Glimmer.

"These are the other Careers. They want to team up," I clarify.

Clove upholds her doubtful expression and doesn't offer any sort of response.

"Come on," I encourage. "What have you got to lose?"

Moments pass until she finally sighs and shrugs. "Fine."

"Great!" Glimmer clapped her hands together with a smile. "So every day of training, we stick together and plan our strategies and whatnot. Sound good?"

"Whatever," Clove folds her arms across her chest.

"So, should we start now?" I ask her.

"Yeah, let's go," Marvel says, starting back to the climbing station.

"I'm staying here," Clove demands. "I don't care if we're a team. I still think it's a good learn instead of review."

"That's okay. If you think you've got that stuff down, you can join us later," Glimmer says kindly.

We leave to return to the physical training, but while Marvel and Glimmer are talking, I sneak a glance back at Clove. She's now more angrily tying knots, yanking them tight with a clenched jaw. I quickly turn back and wonder what the hell is wrong with her. She hasn't been this bitter until today.

"Ugh, look at those two," I hear Marvel say in disdain.

I bring my attention back to them and ask, "Who?"

Glimmer nods her head toward a few other tributes at a camouflage station to our right. "The District 12 tributes, also known as the Star-Crossed Lovers."

"What?" I ask, completely lost.

"Didn't you hear the kid's interview yesterday?" Marvel questions.

I shake my head. "Did something happen?"

"Well, the boy, Peeta I think his name is, professed his love for his fellow District 12 tribute on his interview," Glimmer explains. "Despicable."

"He's obviously just doing it for pity. Either that or he's a weakling," Marvel analyzes.

"Well, either way, they're both going to die. Right?" Glimmer laughs. We join in, but I'm doing it half-heartedly. They've proved to be a complicated pairing so far. First they steal the spotlight from everyone at the Tributes Parade, and then again at the interviews apparently. What kind of game are they playing?

"So how was training?" Harla asks as Clove and I enter the gathering room.

"Fine," Clove says acrimoniously.

Brutus notices Clove's anger and decides to quickly avoid it. "And what about you?" he asks me.

"Pretty well. We actually met the other Careers and agreed to team up," I tell him.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Zane chimes in.

"Well yeah. Why wouldn't it be? I mean, it's two less people that will try to kill us," I shrug.

"Yeah, in the beginning. You know they'll turn on you at some point or another. They want to live too, Cato," Brutus says.

"Yeah," Clove agrees. "What makes you think these people are so trustworthy? How do you know they're not going to just stick a knife in your back while you're asleep? I mean, that Glimmer girl seems bitchy enough to do it."

"Well had we not teamed up with them upon their request, they would have been furious with us and would kill us right off the bat," I retort. "And there's nothing wrong with Glimmer."

"Yeah except for the fact that's she's a total slut." She puts her hands on her hips.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Brutus shouts, obviously irritated with us. "This isn't some teen drama show. This is a matter of life or death. You should both be taking it seriously!"

"I _am _taking it seriously! I joined Glimmer and Marvel out of survival intentions. Clove's the one who's being immature and worrying because she doesn't particularly like Glimmer," I exclaim.

"I'mnot being immature! I'm being reasonable. I just don't think we should trust them," Clove fights back.

"Clove, dear," Harla goes to her side and puts an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe Cato's right. It wouldn't be any safer to get on their bad side either."

"Whatever," she mutters in response.

"But Cato," Zane addresses me, "if they give you any reason to believe that they might be sacrificing your chances of winning, you kill them, right then and there. Alright?"

"Well duh, I'm not stupid," I say.

"You both look like you could use some rest," Brutus sighs as he massages his temples. "Go wash up and relax and we'll call you down when supper is ready."

Clove and I nod and silently walk to our separate rooms without saying a word to each other.


	6. Chapter 6

Every day at training, Clove and I stuck with Glimmer and Marvel. Clove has been quiet ever since we joined them, but that's her problem. I don't care what's going on with her, I care about staying alive. Judging off the training scores we earned yesterday, I think that won't be hard. We both got scores of ten while Marvel and Glimmer got nines. However, we got upstaged by one. Katniss Everdeen, the so-called "Girl on Fire", female tribute of District 12, received a score of eleven. What the hell could a tribute from an outlying district do that caused the Gamemakers to give her a better score than I got?

Today is the day that all of my training and prepping has led up to. Today, I will be entering the arena.

"…and don't be stupid," Brutus finishes his heartfelt lecture to me and Clove as we continue down the halls of the building leading to the hovercracft.

"You're just so supportive," I tell him sarcastically. Clove giggles, making me feel calmer. At least I could take a bit of weight off this stressful day.

"Kids, just remember that we will do everything we can to help you," Harla sighs.

"We know, we know," Clove nods.

"Okay, well, it's time we split up. There are two hovercrafts, and they request that the tributes from the same district be separated. So, Clove, you come with me. Cato can go with Brutus," says Harla. Then she comes closer to me to bid me farewell. She wraps her arms around me and tells me positive things as we hug. I return the favor, but over her shoulder, I'm looking at Clove. She's awkwardly standing by Brutus, talking to him about who knows what. Then, she opens her arms as an offer for a hug, and he accepts. Seeing them hug is a bit too uncomfortable for me. Scratch that, it's absurd! Clove looks so snug in his arms that it makes me sick. Brutus's chin rests on her head, as he is several inches taller than she is.

After Clove pulls away from Brutus's hug, I do the same to Harla. Then Clove walks over to me and shrugs.

"See you later, I guess," she half-heartedly chuckles.

"Yup, remember our plan," I tell her. She nods.

We're both standing there awkwardly for a few moments as Harla and Brutus expect us to exchange more words. So Clove extends her hand. I grip it and shake her hand. As our hand movements decelerate, Clove throws her arms around my neck, stands on her toes, and pulls into a hug.

I uncertainly wrap my arms around her waist. We stay in that position for several moments before Clove releases me and backs away. Without another word, she turns around and hooks arms with Harla. They walk down a hallway to the left as Brutus twitches his head to the opposite hallway, hinting that we need to go the other way.

The walk is silent until we get into the elevator and it begins going up.

"I have no doubts about you, Cato," Brutus assures me. "You're strong and ready."

"Thanks," I sigh with anxiety peeking through.

"But that girl… Take care of her while you can," he proceeds to say.

I shake my head in confusion. "Who, Clove?" After he nods silently, I continue. "What-what do you mean?"

"I _mean_, she's a special one. She's fierce but she has sensitivity. Feelings. Humanity. You don't see that often with Careers."

"Are you telling me to risk my life for her just so you can have a nice, victor-girlfriend when she comes home? If you are, then-" I spit out before he stopped me with laughter.

"Cato, her protection isn't for me. It's for you."

"What?" I ask, positive Brutus has lost his mind.

"Clove is far too young for me; I don't know where you got the idea that I have stirrings for her." His face hardened to an informative stare. "Her protection is important. She will go to no end to protect you, and you will do the same for her."

"What makes you think she'll be protecting me?"

"My, my," he sighs as he pats my back. "You are an oblivious child, you are."

"What? What are you talking about?" I say, suddenly panicking that Brutus knows something about my particular survival that I don't.

The elevator stops with a jerk and the door slides open. Brutus coaxes me out and there are Peacekeepers waiting for us outside.

"Be careful. I'll do my job if you do yours," he tells me as a farewell.

"Brutus, _what were you talking about on the elevator?_" I stress.

"Just trust me. You…might find out," he smirks.

The Peacekeepers take me by the arms and lead me away to a hovercraft a few yards away.

As they drag me away, I scream over my shoulder. "Brutus! What aren't you telling me?"

He just waves with a smug smile on his face. Something's going on and I'm apparently the only one left out of the loop.

The Peacekeepers escort me into the hovercraft and I see several other tributes, with all of their eyes focused on their feet with apprehensive expressions. After I am seated, tI feel the hovercraft lift off the ground and begin flying. Then a woman walks over to the tribute sitting next to me and requests for his arm.

"Why?" he asks hesitantly.

"For your tracker," she answers plainly and grabs his arm and pulls it toward her. Then she took a mechanical syringe and injected it into the boy's wrist. A glowing, blue chip was inserted into his arm. Then she walks over to me.

"Arm," she demands. I obey and let the tracker painfully enter my forearm. I grit my teeth to ease the pain. Then she removes the syringe and moves along to the next person.

When the hovercraft lands, everyone is fatigue. The Peacekeepers show us out the doors. Two of them guide me down the gray and vacant hallways to a room that says the number two. They open the door and give me a shove in. When they slam the door shut, I take the time to see Zayn in front of a table.

"Hi Cato," he calmly greets me, but I can hear the quiver in his voice.

"Hi," I reply, walking toward him.

"Are you worried?" he asks.

"No," I lie. "Are you?"

"A little. I've only known you for a short time, but… I feel a connection between us. Like we're family."

"Likewise."

I know Zayn well enough to be sure that he's a thin-skinned wreck. What makes it worse for him must be that he gets so easily attached to his tributes, and then they basically die right in front of him.

He sighs, like he wants to say so much more. "Good luck." He embraces me in a tight hug and presses me close to him. I hug back without a second thought. "Take care of yourself. And Clove."

I retreat. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"You don't want to know. It's better that you don't. You and Clove are the most humane tributes I've ever dressed. It'd ruin you if you knew."

"I'm never going to find out, am I?" I sigh.

"You might. I'll tell you what. If you get out, and you still haven't realized it, I'll tell you."

"Deal," I smile.

A message comes through the intercom, telling us that we only have thirty seconds. After it finishes, Zayn goes to the wall and retrieves a hanger. Then he takes the coat off of it and drapes it over my shoulders. I slip my arms through and wait. Silence overtakes the room before Zayn motions toward a clear tube with an opening for me to step in.

"I believe in you, Cato," he whispers.

"Thank you," I respond, quieter than he was. Then I step into the tube and stay still.

Suddenly, the floor below me begins rising, and I try to remain calm. Zayn keeps his eyes on me until I pass the ceiling. I see light ahead of me. Seconds, dreadful seconds, pass before my head rises above the top. The platform rises to the ring around me and locks.

Glancing around me, I try to take in everything about the arena. How there are trees surrounding the Cornucopia, except for one side, which has a lake. How the grass is a beautiful shade of green. How the sun is beating down on us with no mercy. Then I observe the tributes. I see Clove in the semi-circle of platforms. She's looking back at me. It's too hard to read her expression, so I focus my eyes back to the center. It's not until then that I realize that there has been a countdown. It's at 15.

14.

13.

Run to the Cornucopia. It's our plan.

11.

10.

9.

Everyone else will be heading there.

7.

6.

5.

Just do it.

Grab the weapons and fight off whoever comes near us.

3.

2.

1.


End file.
